


A Bath by Candlelight

by Owl_by_Night



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl_by_Night/pseuds/Owl_by_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long journey, Major Grant takes a bath</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bath by Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fengirl88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/gifts).



> Recently fengirl88 gave me the prompt 'sharing a bath' and this is the result. 
> 
> Set in canon-era, some time between the Peninsula and Waterloo, Grant pays Jonathan a visit at Ashfair. After the long journey there it seemed right that he have a relaxing bath, but Jonathan has other ideas.

Grant does not see Jonathan when he first enters the room. He is facing towards the window, already stripped and in his bath.  Jonathan, standing in the doorway from the servants’ corridor, allows himself the indulgence of watching for a moment.  Grant is efficient in his washing as befits a military man, scrubbing a cloth briskly over his arms to remove the dust of his journey. He has strong arms, strong enough to hold a man of Jonathan's size down if he chooses, and the water curls around the curve of his muscles. It is an appealing sight.

Grant pauses in his washing and tilts his head, listening. "Did you bring the hot water?" he asks. 

"I did," Jonathan replies.

Grant half turns, splashing, with a futile gesture at covering himself that he abandons before it is half made.

"What the devil are you doing here Merlin? I thought you were the man bringing more hot water."

"I am," Jonathan says, holding up the full jug. 

"Merlin..."

"Don't worry. Alfred knows to keep quiet about how I might choose to spend the evening with my guest and we shall not be disturbed."

"You place a great deal of trust in the discretion of a serving boy.  I have no wish to cause a scandal, or worse."

"I trust to his discretion because he trusts in mine. I caught him in the stables with one of the grooms." Jonathan smiles crookedly. "I believe he feels his silence is a small payment for my understanding." 

"Then in that case Merlin, if we do indeed have the evening to ourselves, you might make yourself useful. I've a week's worth of dirt from the road in my hair."  Grant reaches out a hand and Jonathan takes it, allowing himself to be pulled closer.  He folds himself into kneeling position beside the tub.

"And how might I make myself useful, Major Grant? I am yours to command."

Grant flicks water at him in response to his mocking tone. Jonathan grimaces when the drops hit his face but instead of retaliating, leans forward for a kiss.

"Lean back then, if you want me to wash your hair," Jonathan says when they part.

"You had best remove your waistcoat first if you don’t want it spoiled by the water."  Grant eyes the striped velvet with a skeptical eye.  He makes a point of preferring practical dress, despite his attachment to his red coat. 

"Had I, indeed?  Why do I feel that your concern is less for my clothes and more a desire to have me undressed?"  Jonathan makes quick work of undressing nonetheless, unbuttoning the smart waistcoat and unfastening his cravat. He rolls his sleeves above his elbow as Grant leans back in the tub to wet his hair.

There's something soothing about doing this, at watching Grant's face relax as Jonathan runs fingers through his hair and turns the soap into lather. Grant’s hair is shorter than Jonathan’s and less easily tangled, sliding through his fingers instead of tugging against them.  Jonathan scoops up water with his hands for a first rinse, watching as the soapsuds run down Grant's neck and over his broad shoulders. 

"Close your eyes."  He picks up the can of hot water and pours it slowly over Grant's head, rinsing away the last of the soap. When he is done, Grant rubs the water from his eyes and blinks at him, his eyelashes wet around his dark eyes.

"You are a very handsome man," Jonathan tells him, folding his hands on the edge of the tub and propping his chin on them.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."  Grant frowns: he is not a man to be won by flattery. 

"I am not at all ridiculous. You are everything an officer ought to be. I imagine half the women in town are in love with you. I would be envious of them, but none of them have the privilege of doing this..."

Jonathan trails a hand into the water, brushing the inside of Grant's thigh from his knee upwards, then stroking his fingers lightly against Grant's cock. 

"Ah, Merlin!" Grant leans back hard against the edge of the tub, pushing his hips upwards in search of a more substantial touch. "You are a damned tease!  And very fortunate that I love you."

"I know," Jonathan smiles, continuing to admire the reaction he gets to his light, barely there touches.  "I am fortunate indeed." 

Grant lets out an exasperated sight but rests a wet hand in Jonathan's hair and submits to his touches, allowing him to do whatever he pleases until Grant is lolling back in the bath, skin flushed in the firelight and his breathing rapid.  To Jonathan, there is no more appealing sight. Grant was made to be admired at this time of day: the fire and candle light warms the colour of his hair and gilds his skin and the fine hairs that cover it. Jonathan's sleeves are trailing in the water but he hardly notices. Grant's head is tipped back in pleasure, leaving the curve of his neck bare and begging to have a bruise left on the pale skin, low enough to be hidden by his cravat but still there, still a permanent reminder of this. His skin is hot under Jonathan's mouth and tastes of water and the lingering soap.

"Merlin, if you do not let me up out of this tub soon I will not be answerable to the consequences." Grant speaks in long suffering tones but he cannot hide the warmth underneath, nor the hint of desperation. He pushes Jonathan gently back and stands, dripping water.  Jonathan watches him in open admiration as he steps out onto the rug between the bath and the fire, reaching for a towel. Jonathan obligingly hands it to him but then pulls him down before he can use it, sprawling together in a wet tangle of limbs and hot kisses, his clothed body pressed tight against Grant's naked one.

“I find I cannot wait any longer,” he says in reply to Grant’s noise of protest. 

"Idiot!” Grant tells him affectionately.  “Your shirt will get wet, take it off."  He is already tugging at the hem, sliding his hands over the skin of Jonathan’s back. 

Jonathan pulls away just far enough to wrestle the shirt over his head, throwing it away across the room and tugging off his breeches so that they can lie bare skin to bare skin.  He kisses a line along Grant's collarbone.

"Enough teasing Merlin.  If you are determined to have me here on the floor you should get on with it.  You are not the only one who has been waiting long enough."

Grant rolls them over easily then and it is Jonathan's turn to lie breathless under Grant's hands, to watch in anticipation as Grant prepares himself, straddling Jonathan and rocking himself against Jonathan's chest as he does so.  Jonathan can do no more or less than watch in a haze of pleasure as Grant rides him, the light from the fire playing over his chest, over the strong muscles of his thighs. He comes at Grant's command, crying out, listening to Grant calling him 'mine, mine, my Merlin'. 

Afterwards they lie in sleepy contentment, Grant with his head pillowed on Jonathan's chest and Jonathan twisting the pale gold of his hair as it dries and curls. 

"We should wash," Grant says eventually. "My bath has left me less clean than I was before." 

Jonathan laughs, wrapping his arms around Grant. "True, but I have no desire to move.  Besides, the water will be cold."  He dips his fingers into the water and let's them drip over Grant's back so he flinches from the chill.  It is warm beside the fire, but the rest of the room is colder. 

"Even so, Merlin, we cannot stay here all evening." 

"In that case, I had best ring for Alfred and ask him to prepare a bath in my bedchamber. Nobody will remark on it if I choose to take a bath before dinner." 

"And what shall do while you soak?  If you leave me here to rinse in cold water I will think you a very poor host," Grant tells him with a lazy kind of severity.   

Jonathan lifts his head a little to frown down at him.  "I had hoped we might share." 

"I doubt the bath will comfortably hold you and me together."

"And I am sure that it will, but the only way to test it is to try.”  Jonathan says, very softly into Grant’s ear, “of course, we will have to sit very close, my love, but the water will be hot, and the fire warm. What could be more pleasant on a cold evening?”  His hands roam lower, a promise of what sitting close might entail.  With such an incentive, what can Grant do but agree? 


End file.
